What Doesn't Kill You
by Dannyblue
Summary: Sam and Dean face something they might not be able to handle.


**Title:** What Doesn't Kill You…  
**Rating:** PG  
**Genre:** Gen

**Summary:** Sam and Dean face something they might not be able to handle.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own _Supernatural_, or Sam and Dean.

**Author's Note: **This is my first SN fic. In fact, my first fic in a while. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

Sam hadn't seen Dean this freaked since the plane.

"I can't go back in there," Dean muttered, his voice shaking. He was pacing at the side of the road, his steps jerky and mechanical. His eyes were wide with growing panic. "I can't go back."

"Come on, man," Sam said, trying to sound calm and reasonable. His eyes followed his brother as he paced. "You gotta calm down…"

"Calm down!" Dean demanded, stopping long enough to give Sam a _you must be crazy_ look. "Dude, did you somehow miss what's going on here?"

As Dean turned to continue pacing, Sam could only glare after him. _No, I didn't miss what's going on here_, he wanted to say. _And, if I had, the way my heart is trying to pound out of my chest would've clued me in._

Closing his eyes, Sam took a long, deep breath. He'd been scared plenty since their "road trip" began. But this was, like, off the charts. He might _look_ like he was holding it together better than Dean but, truth was, he felt like jelly inside. In the past, no matter how bad things were, he usually felt like he had _some _control. But not this time. Which was why he couldn't quite bring himself to try to do this alone. Trying to calm Dean down was all that was pushing back his own fear.

"Look, Dean," Sam said, putting on a reassuring face. "I know you're scared, man. So am I. But we _have_ to do this." He waved his arms to indicate the deserted country road. "There's no one else."

Turning to Sam, Dean opened his mouth like he was about to argue that point. The frown of intense thought on his face said he was really, really trying to come up with something. Anything. But even Dean's quick, cunning mind couldn't come up with a way out of this one. After about ten seconds, his shoulders sagged in defeat. "Okay. I guess we should…"

Suddenly, a shrill, almost inhuman howl rent the air, like it was trying to tear it to shreds. Both Winchester brothers jumped in fright. Then, turning to stare at the Impala, they cringed simultaneously.

Sam felt his stomach drop to his knees. His skin prickled with cold sweat until he was almost shivering from it. And he figured Dean was feeling the same way, since all the color had drained out of his older brother's face.

"Come on," Sam said, reluctantly. "Sounds like we better hurry."

"Yeah," Dean agreed just as reluctantly. "We better."

The two walked towards the car like two men taking that final walk down death row.

"You know, this wouldn't be necessary if _someone_ hadn't left the cell phone at the hotel," Dean grumbled.

Sam merely rolled his eyes. Trust Dean to get in one final shot.

Opening the passenger door, Sam glanced at the woman lying, as comfortably as possible, across the back seat. "How are you doing, Mrs. Meisener?"

She give him a glare very similar to Dean's _you must be crazy_ look. "I'm just _peachy_!" Hands rubbing her large, round belly, she bared her teeth at him in what was probably supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a snarl. "Did you two have a nice _chat_?"

Sam flinched guiltily. "I'm really sorry about that, ma'am. We just…"

"I don't _care!" _Another snarl. "Can we go now? My water just broke!"

"In my _car_!" yelped Dean, who'd opened the driver's side door just in time to hear that last part. Looking equal parts horrified, disgusted, and distressed, he started to peak over into the back seat.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, giving his brother a chiding glare. "This isn't the time."

"Right, right," Dean quickly agreed, making a valiant effort not to care what had happened to his precious upholstery.

"Let's go!" Mrs. Meisener cried. Eyes squeezed shut, she pounded one fist against the seat. "Let's…Oh! Oooooh…" Suddenly, she threw her head back and screamed a scream that cut right through Sam's eardrums.

"Oh!" Dean blurted out, shoulders hunching as he winced in sympathetic pain. He crouched down a little, almost like he was trying to duck in order to escape from something.

In the meantime, Sam was busy trying to swallow down a wave of nausea. Where, before, he felt chilled to the bone, he now felt like he was on fire. Jumping into the car, he slammed his door shut. "Drive!" he ordered his brother. And, for once, Dean didn't argue.

As they took off down the road at Dean's usual "bat out of hell" speed, Sam looked one last time at the economy car that had crashed into a telephone pole. The mother-to-be was really lucky she hadn't been seriously hurt. And that the Winchester's had driven by when they had.

* * *

"What's wrong with 'Samantha Denise'?" Sam demanded, splitting his attention between his brother, and the road map. "I think it's a pretty name."

"No, it is," Dean agreed. "It's a very _pretty_ name." But his voice dripped with sarcasm. He even rolled his eyes at the road ahead.

"What?" Sam demanded, feeling insulted on behalf of the baby girl they'd played a part in bringing into the world. Even if that part was just driving her mother to the hospital. Again, he demanded, "What's wrong with 'Samantha Denise'?"

"Nothing," Dean grumbled. "It's just…" There was a long pause, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to say what he wanted to say. Finally, he shrugged one shoulder. "I just don't see why 'Samantha' had to be first is all."

It took a few moments for the words to sink in but, when they did, Sam cracked up. Really, what else could he do?

"Hey!" Dean exclaimed, looking both embarrassed and annoyed. Taking one hand off the steering wheel, he slapped Sam on the arm. "It's not that funny."

"Uh, yeah, it kinda is," Sam guffawed. Eventually, he managed to stop laughing. However, he couldn't wipe the grin off of his face. "It's just a name, Dean. We should feel honored that someone decided to name their child after us. Which name comes first shouldn't matter, right?"

"Uh huh," Dean mumbled, not sounding convinced.

"And, really," Sam continued, "don't you think 'Samantha Denise' just sounds better than 'Denise Samantha'. I mean, come on." Surely Dean could see reason here. You just had to listen to the two name combinations. 'Samantha Denise' obviously flowed better.

"And the fact that the one that sounds better is the one with a version of _your_ name first has nothing to do with it?"

"Nothing at all," Sam agreed, ignoring Dean's skeptical glare. "Besides, I think I deserve first billing since it was _my_ hand Mrs. Meisener almost broke."

Dean snickered. "Yeah, well, you were the one who told her to squeeze it as hard as she needed to the next time a contraction hit." Apparently, memories of Sam being driven to his knees in the hospital hallway by a woman more than a foot shorter than he was was enough to lift Dean's spirits. In fact, he threw a good-natured smirk in Sam's direction. "She had _some_ grip, huh?"

"Yes, she did," Sam agreed ruefully, clenching and unclenching his hand. It didn't hurt too badly anymore. He was sure he'd have all of the feeling back in it pretty soon. And he got off easy. Mr. Meisener was the one who had to hold her hand through the entire delivery.

"You know, Sammy," Dean said, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. He sounded so serious, Sam decided to let the 'Sammy' thing slide.

"I've seen some pretty terrifying things in my time," Dean continued. "Demons. Pissed off spirits. Monsters right out of your worst nightmare. But, if you ask me, there's _nothing_ scarier than a woman in labor."

**THE END**


End file.
